


To Kill a Season

by Crystallized_Shadow



Series: MadaTobi Week 2019 [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Magic, Blood, Captured, Day 3, Eye Stealing, M/M, MadaTobi Week 2019, Prisoner of War, Rituals, Summer God Madara, Violence, Winter God Tobirama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 23:27:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20143735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crystallized_Shadow/pseuds/Crystallized_Shadow
Summary: Madara and Tobirama are two of the strongest gods around, but that doesn't stop mortals from stealing the summer god. Racing against the clock, can winter find summer once more?





	To Kill a Season

**Author's Note:**

> Day 3: Prisoner of War
> 
> This is a prequel to Stolen Winter but can be read as a stand alone story.

“Again, seriously?” Tobirama groans as he feels Madara shift, clenching around his slowly hardening cock.

“I let you nap,” Madara points out, ducking his head to nibble on the pale neck before him, “unless the mighty winter god can’t get it up.”

“How are you still this energetic?” Tobirama groans as he glares into the molten eyes of his lover. “I’ve already fucked you a dozen times!”

“Summer solstice,” Madara hums, kissing along Tobirama’s jaws until he can claim his partner’s lips in a searing kiss.

“Just you wait until my solstice,” Tobirama states, running his fingers through the smoky wisps of Madara’s hair, tugging the other god back, “I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t wake up until summer starts again.”

“Given your current performance I highly doubt that,” Madara chuckles, moaning when the hand in his hair yanks it reprovingly.

“I am literally at my weakest right now,” Tobirama yawns, “and I’m still managing to keep up with you.”

“Think you can manage it one more time my dearest winter?” Madara purrs, smirking when Tobirama glares at him again.

“Of course,” he huffs, effortlessly flipping the two and pinning Madara to the bed, “anything for my beloved summer.”

“Show me what you’ve got Snowflake,” Madara challenges, tugging Tobirama down by his hair to kiss him.

“I’ve told you not to call me that,” Tobirama mutters, nipping Madara’s lip before he grips both of the summer god’s thighs and roughly thrusts into him.

“But you react so wonderfully to it,” Madara moans, wrapping his legs around Tobirama’s waist and tugging the winter god deeper.

“Damnable fireball,” Tobirama grumbles, pounding that much harder into Madara.

A sudden, rather sharp tug on Madara’s very soul has him groaning miserably. “I think someone is trying to summon me.”

“Now?” Tobirama repeats, a mixture of shock and irritation clear on his face, “no one has dared summon you in millennia!”

“We’ve got time to finish if you’re quick,” Madara chuckles, ignoring the call for the moment to focus on the feel of his winter god thrusting deeply inside him. “Good thing you’re known for your speed.”

“Fuck you,” Tobirama huffs, leaning down and sinking his teeth into Madara’s unprotected throat.

“You are,” Madara gasps, the sudden spark of pain from the bite pushing him over the edge. 

Tobirama tumbles over the edge moments after Madara and for a second neither god moves. “You should probably see what they want,” the winter god pants.

“Probably some humans complaining about the drought even though I’m not the one that controls that,” Madara grumbles keening remorsefully when Tobirama pulls out of him.

“You could talk to Izuna,” Tobirama points out as Madara slowly stretches and stands up. He watches the summer god slowly pull on his clothing, frowning when all the lovely marks he’s made are covered up. “Don’t take too long,” Tobirama mutters, “I see a few patches of skin I missed.”

“So possessive,” Madara laughs, leaning down to kiss his partner one last time before he leaves to answer the summons.

* * *

What was supposed to be responding to a simple summoning had turned into a trap. Instead of finding himself at an altar, where most people attempted to summon gods, Madara finds himself summoned in a tiny cell, so oversaturated with power suppressing seals the multitude of sigils had made him nauseous. It was almost a blessing when the humans had slapped a blindfold over his eyes, covered in runes strong enough to block even his burning gaze. The bastards had left him trapped in the summoning circle, unable to return home until he’d heard their request and unable to overpower the sigils because of the power suppressors.

Madara had lost track of how long he’d stuck in his cell, unable to tell the passing of time due to both the blindfold and the seals surrounding him. As much as Madara hated having his sight taken away, he was still grateful as it prevented him from seeing the mess of seals he could feel pressing against his power. He wasn’t known for being the calmest season and sage above only knew what would happen if he had to see that atrocity everyday. It was like the humans had thrown together every single power suppressor seal they could find, which thinking about it, they probably had.

“You going to tell me what you want yet?” Madara calls out, well aware that his every move is being watched. He’s not even surprised when only silence greets him; clearly the humans were waiting for something and he had a feeling whatever it was wasn’t good news for him. Slumping forward in a vain attempt to get away from the seals, Madara lets his mind wander back to his beloved winter. Surely Tobirama knew he was being held against his will by now, right? It wasn’t that odd for his summons to take some time, but he was sure he’d been gone longer than normal.

It takes Madara longer than he’d like to admit to figure out exactly what the humans had been waiting for. In fact he only realizes when he feels the tell tale drain on his magic, a sure sign of the Winter Solstice approaching. He would be at his weakest then, his usual wildfire of magic barely more than an ember, and the humans could very easily do whatever they wanted to him.

* * *

“You need to calm down Tobirama.”

“Calm down!?” Tobirama snaps, his harsh gaze settling on the spring god as the air temperature drops several degrees. “My eternal partner has been missing for seasons and you want me to calm down!?”

“Yelling at Hashirama won’t bring Madara back,” the goddess of autumn points out, her tone just as chilly as his, “so calm down and think for a minute. Your power is nearly at its peak, see how far you can stretch your senses.”

Tobirama has to admit Mito has a point, so he takes a deep breath and pushes his senses out as far as he can. Still unable to feel the raging inferno that is Madara, Tobirama is about to give up when his senses pass over a spot that just feels wrong.

“Did you find him?” Hashirama asks hopefully even as Tobirama frowns.

“I can’t feel Madara but…” The winter god trails off as he prods the point with his magic, only for it to be rejected. “But I found some place warded heavily enough to repel my magic.”

“Go search there,” Mito suggests, grabbing her partner’s arm before he can move to follow Tobirama, “Hashirama and I will remain here, and keep the wards distracted.”

“Thank you,” Tobirama mutters, disappearing in a burst of icy air that makes the other two gods shudder; whoever had dared to take Madara had no idea what they had unleashed.

Tobirama finds the old building and slips in easy enough; between Mito and Hashirama attacking the wards from afar it was easy to sneak in as a burst of winter air. The sight that greets Tobirama has the frozen air around him condensing into deadly ice shards.

Madara is laying on his side in a complicated array of runes, a ceremonial dagger lodged in his chest; the god’s blood following each carved character and glowing a sickly black color.

“Madara!” Tobirama roars, launching the ice shards at the humans, impaling each one in the neck as he rushes for his partner. “Madara can you hear me?!” When the summer god fails to respond, a wave of panicked magic breaks the seal so Tobirama can kneel beside the still god, pulling him into his lap. “Madara!”

“T-Tobi…?” The weak voice draws Tobirama’s gaze to his partner’s face relief and horror crashing over him as he realizes the blood on Madara’s face is dripping from his tightly closed eyelids. Surely those bastards hadn’t dared to deface his summer in such a way!!

“I’m here Madara,” Tobirama mutters, hugging the god close as his magic struggles to latch onto Madara’s so he can jump start the other’s healing. It’s at that moment Tobirama’s world stops as he stares at the slowly dying god in his arms. “My summer...what have they done to you?”

“Not...summer...anymore,” Madara chokes out, more blood spilling from his lips, “t-they took it...my fire...my eyes…”

“You’ll always be my summer!” Tobirama argues, tears falling from his eyes he pulls Madara into a kiss, pushing as much passion and magic as he can into it, trying in vain to find a spark of the fire Madara usually possess.

“Love you…” Madara mutters, a shaky hand cupping Tobirama’s cheek, “my winter.”

“MADARA!!!” Tobirama sobs, burying his face into the other’s hair when Madara goes still, his last ember fading away, “don’t leave me my summer, please!”

That’s how Hashirama and Mito find Tobirama some time later, still hunched over Madara’s long cold body at the epicenter of the worst winter storm in history.


End file.
